If You Need Anything
IHQ Command Center This massive chamber lies at the core of the upper level, its ceiling high enough for even a gestalt. The walls are covered in monitors and consoles from floor to ceiling, while narrow catwalks rise from the floor to the upper areas where additional terminals and consoles are housed. At the center of the chamber is the column containing the turbolift, while on five of the walls are large double doors, four opening into the various divisional wings. Between the MSE and DCI wing entrances is a smaller sets of doors leading to the War Room. Two huge main screens dominate two of the eight walls, displaying information and images sent by the main computer. Atop the column is the communications room, accessible by the catwalks on either side of the column. Swindle sits tapping away at one of the terminals spread throughout the room. He is hunched over the terminal, staring intently into a screen. The sound of muttered words can be made out although the details are unclear. Fleet walks in through the entrance from the Spacebridge, shaking his head and making a noise suspiciously like a sigh. Transferred again. Already. Swindle glances quickly over his shoulder as he hears the sounds of the spacebridge arrival indicator. His optics narrow suspiciously at the newcomer for a moment, before a large cheerful smile spreads across his face. Surreptitiously he closes a contact on the terminal and the screen blanks out. "Ah, hello." Fleet looks up with a start, drawn out of his thoughts. "Oh, uhm, hi." He cocks his head, trying not to seem rude... or as nervous as he is. "Swindle, correct?" Swindle continues watching the other mech for a drawn-out moment, waiting on anything further. As nothing further seems to be forthcoming he tilts his head, regarding the seeker with a keen scrutiny. With a brief nod of his head he replies. "Yup, that's me. Seems to me you look familiar too, although I can't honestly say that I recall your name." Fleet chuckles softly. "I probably look familiar because, paint job aside, a lot of my kind look pretty much alike. My name is Fleet." Swindle nods to himself. "Name's somewhat familiar too, although I couldn't tell you where from off the top of my head." He turns in his seat to face the seeker more fully. "Either way, pleased to meet you, in case you haven't heard," a skeptical expression crosses his face, "if you need anything, I'm the mech to see." Fleet frowns, trying to think where on Cybertron or off Swindle would have heard *his* name. He hoped it was just the mech's way of being "friendly." "Well, thank you, although I think I'm doing well enough at the moment. I just got transferred from Charr, and I'm getting my bearings." Swindle looks at the seeker with interest. "Charr you say? How long have you been posted out there?" He glances distractedly upwards, thinking. "I know I heard some discussion on the matter of strengthening our position there, but I didn't think anything came of it." Swindle hears things, many things. "Actually, not too long. I got sent there because... I'm not sure. Had a direct supervisor who thought I was too smart for his own good, or something. Which is absurd. " Fleet shrugs. "He didn't really give me a reason, so I can't say for certain." Swindle nods, "So you were just posted there as standard guard detail then? I know I haven't noticed much troop movement or supplies sent out that way." As he speaks his attention flickers over Fleet's form, taking note of points of interest and, no doubt, of value. Fleet starts to back up, then catches himself as he tries to force down his discomfort at Swindle's intense study. "Pretty much that, yes. There weren't too many others there, to be certain." Swindle nods transferring his gaze back to the monitor he's recently been using with a casual air. "Well, welcome back to a more civilised section of the universe. If you can call a nine-million year old civil war civilised, that is." Fleet chuckles softly. "Someone thought it was civil enough to give it that name, I suppose. But considering civilizations seem to generally revolve around war, I guess it's as good enough a one as any." He begins to look around as he finishes. Swindle shakes his head. "No, if you look closely you'll see that most civilisations seem to revolve around conflict, which admittedly usually seem to take the form of violence and war. But there are other sources as well and, during times of peace, conflict is still a visible part of the system." He shrugs. "At least, that's what I've noticed." Fleet pauses to consider this. "I suppose so. I... hadn't really thought of it like that. Or thought of it that closely. I suppose it's because I, personally, have gotten so used to war that I just tend to think of it as the natural state of everyone's being." At this point Flee starts to head towards the entrance to the Mil Ops Wing, although he does so slowly, so as not to seem rude, and to see if Swindle has anything else to add. Swindle leans back casually in his seat, one leg crossed on his other and his arms raised with his hands supporting his head. "Yeah, that's easy to do after so long, I suppose." He nods over at the seeker as he makes a move towards an exit. "Heading out to get your bearings, huh? I'll see you around then, and remember, if you need something, I'm the mech who can get it." Fleet chuckles softly. "Well, I'm probably not the mech who can afford it, but thank you, anyway." Swindle shrugs nonchalantly. "Things can change, either way, be careful out there." With that he turns back to the terminal, although he doesn't activate it. Fleet heads out, letting Swindle return to his... work.